


Right to Silence

by trollmela



Category: NCIS, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Don't Ask Don't Tell, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-08 11:25:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15242343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trollmela/pseuds/trollmela
Summary: He had an alibi for last night. His alibi had three stars and Daniel wasn’t going to be the reason for his discharge.





	1. Chapter 1

He had an alibi for last night. He’d been fucked by it to near screaming, put away wet and then slept next to it until morning. His alibi had three stars and Daniel wasn’t going to be the reason for his discharge.

“Dr. Jackson?”

He looked up at the Navy Cop.

“I stayed at a friend’s house. He has a guest room.”

“So he was with you? Specifically between 12 pm and 2 am?”

“We went to bed at 12.”

That was a lie. They’d barely made it through the door at nine.

“We watched football and talked.”

“A friend from work?”

Daniel nodded. “Yes.”

“In Colorado?”

“Yes.”

“What does a linguist and archaeologist do for the Air Force?”

“Translations.”

“But you’re not a translator and your specialty appears to be old languages.”

“I’m afraid the details are classified, Agent DiNozzo.”

The man gave him a long look.

“Who was playing?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said you and your friend watched football,” DiNozzo reminded him.

Daniel swallowed.

“Redskins and Patriots.”

DiNozzo grinned.

“The Redskins were awful, weren’t they? Lost the game practically at the beginning.”

Daniel shrugged.

“Sports is Jack’s thing.”

DiNozzo just kept grinning.

“Well, everyone’s got an opinion, right? That’s where the Monday morning quarterback comes from.”

“Like I said, sports don’t really interest me.”

“And you said you went to bed at 12?”

Daniel relaxed the fist clenched in his lap.

“Correct.”

“All right, why don’t you write down your friend Jack’s contact details.”

* * *

After what felt like forever, the agent returned.

“General O’Neill’s come by.”

“Jack’s here?”

It came out before he could help himself. He kept his blank face though and hoped the agent hadn’t seen more than he should.

He and Jack were friends, he repeated to himself. Nothing more.

“Yes, he is.”

“Then I’m sure he’s confirmed my alibi and I can go.”

DiNozzo nodded. “We don’t have anything to keep you here.”

Daniel heard an unspoken ‘yet’. He sighed loudly.

“Look. Like I said, I was feeling Vaughn out for a position in our program.”

“General O’Neill didn’t know about him.”

Daniel barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He shouldn’t antagonize the man and better they focus on his connection to Vaughn than his relationship with Jack.

“I don’t have to run everything by the General. I’m head of the linguistics department on the base and Jack isn’t even my direct supervisor anymore. Besides, I didn’t feel that Vaughn would make the cut.”

“Why not? Because of his older brother?”

Daniel chided himself. Of course they knew about that. God knew he’d spent long enough in this interrogation room. They’d probably already talked to Kyle.

“In part,” he conceded. ”If Kyle mentioned me to Lance, it was possible that he wouldn’t hear me out.”

“But he did. Or at least agreed to a meeting.”

Daniel shrugged. “There’s little I can say without having someone sign a whole rain forest of paper. So there really wasn’t much I could talk to him about. I got the impression that he was only listening to get some amusement.”

“Did he expect you to talk about aliens?”

Now Daniel did roll his eyes.

“Probably. Look, are we done?”

The door opened and another agent entered. This one was older, probably the agent in charge.

“Boss?” DiNozzo confirmed his assumption.

“Game’s up,” the older agent said, eyes pinning Daniel to his seat. Suddenly, he could feel his heart in his throat.

“The general says you watched a documentary last night. Now I don’t know what hold you have on a guy like O’Neill, but you better give it up!”

He looked angry. Probably ex-military himself.

DiNozzo turned to Daniel with a slow grin.

“Guess you aren’t going anywhere.”

Of course that was when Jack muscled his way into the interrogation room, another agent right behind him and yelling:

“You have no right-”

But Jack ignored him.

“For heaven’s sake, Daniel is innocent!”

“Then why are you lying for him?” The older agent demanded. “Sounds like he’s guilty of something. Maybe he didn’t kill the Petty Officer, but he’s blackmailing you.”

Jack laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh.

“Jack, shut up.” Daniel almost scared himself with how harsh he sounded. His tone gave Jack a pause. After a second, Jack regained his equilibrium. He glared at the three agents around him.

“Find another suspect. Daniel isn’t it.”

The glare he sent to his lover was barely softened.

“And you: not another word. I’m fixing this, one way or another.”

He stormed out before Daniel could reply. Had Daniel been alone, he would have cursed violently and loudly.

“Do you have anything you would like to say?” DiNozzo asked.

Daniel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“You heard the man. I’m shutting up.”

“You’ll go into lock-up,” the agent warned him.

“Guess so.”

It wasn’t his first time as a prisoner. He had faith in Jack, but at the same time, he was afraid. If only Jack didn’t do anything stupid now.

* * *

They kept track of how many times they allowed themselves to show up at an event together. Every time Daniel asked himself if they were still being inconspicuous enough and when two men showing up together was one time too many for friends. He supposed they had the advantage of working in the same circles. They were bound to go to the same places at least half the time.

They had a secret sign they used. They didn’t hold hands, they didn’t exchange looks conveying their affection. They didn’t touch in public anywhere below the waist and never for longer than three seconds. One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three, letting go now and throwing in a manly buddy pat.

They tapped three times on the glass of whatever they were drinking instead.

I. Love. You.

They didn’t look at each other as they did it, only caught the other’s eye quickly and tapped.

Carter and Teal’c knew, but neither had been planned. Mitchell more than suspected but made it clear that he didn’t want to be told.

They were waiting. For something. Originally that had been retirement. Now, things were changing. Maybe. Various retired generals and admirals had already signed statements in favor of a repeal of DADT. Maybe they wouldn’t have to wait until retirement.

Daniel liked to think that he had perfected the posture for Kelno’reem; his mind — not so much.

He heard steps, a key in the lock, and the door open. Daniel opened his eyes deliberately slowly. It was the older agent again who had come.

“You’re free to go.”

Daniel stood. Agent Gibbs’ face was blank. Except — was there a trace of resentment in his eyes?

“What happened?”

“A guy in Vaughn’s class at Annapolis confessed.”

“Huh.”

 _And Jack?_ He thought to himself.

 

He got his cell phone and other personal items back and no apology.

“Should I be expecting you to spy on me until I leave DC on the red-eye tomorrow?”

Daniel caustically asked as he checked his things over for damage or anything missing. His phone showed two missed texts from Mitchell.

“If you give me a reason for why you lied we could avoid that.”

Daniel resisted the urge to get angry.

“Does it even matter now? You’ve got your guy. Jack told you that I’m not blackmailing him. For Christ’s sake we worked together for seven years on the same team.”

He wished Gibbs understood what he meant by team. Being ex-military himself, he would understand that a team that bled together meant more than a team of scientists that shared 9 to 5 time.

“We’re friends. It was a misunderstanding.”

“You can still clear that misunderstanding up.”

Daniel knew that he couldn’t.

“Am I free to go?”

* * *

He hailed a cap at the next crossing and had the driver take him to a hotel in Arlington. He hadn’t stayed at a hotel in the area for years.

Once there, he called Jack on the secure line and told him not to come.

“Sheppard and McKay are in town. Let’s make it a guys’ night out,” Jack offered, but Daniel declined.

If he couldn’t spend his time with Jack the way he wanted, and with the NCIS agent potentially on their ass, it was better they didn’t see each other at all.

“I think that NCIS agent will be watching me.”

“Gibbs?” Jack cursed. “He’s got a reputation as being tenacious and a bastard. But come on, old friends and colleagues having a drink or two at a bar? Nothing to see there.”

Daniel really didn’t want to go. But Jack had a point.

“All right. What time?”

* * *

If he had a shadow that night, Daniel didn’t see him. He wasn’t used to spotting a tail in a crowded city. The evening went well at least. Jack and Sheppard felt they had to run interference when McKay and he got into it at one point about things they probably shouldn’t have been talking about in public in the first place. It only came to Daniel on the way back to the hotel in a cab with Sheppard and McKay that he’d mostly been able to ignore his need to rail at the injustice of everything. He nearly thanked McKay, but only exchanged cordial goodbyes with the two when they got off at their hotel.

Jack was waiting for him in front of his room and nearly gave Daniel a heart attack.

“Are you crazy?” Daniel snapped as quietly as he could.

“I checked. Nobody was watching outside and the reception was empty. Nobody saw me. No one will see me when I leave.”

Daniel opened the door. The first thing to do was draw the curtains. Jack checked the bathroom while Daniel was hitting his limit of keeping it together. He opened his mouth but Jack lifted a warning finger. He pulled out a bug sweeper and went through the room. Five minutes felt like half an hour. Then Jack was on him so hard that Daniel stumbled backwards and hit his leg on the nightstand.

Jack’s fingers in his hair hurt, and it was exactly what he needed now. He wasn’t gentle when he put his hand on Jack’s crotch and Jack swore against his lips. When they broke the kiss, Jack’s zipper was down and he was hard.

“Jack,” Daniel pleaded. “Make me feel it.”

Jack froze, moved to pull back. Daniel wouldn’t let him. He had his eyes squeezed shut and pressed his forehead against the side of Jack’s face. He took in his partner’s scent and felt Jack nod.

“All the way to Colorado,” Jack promised.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is from the NCIS team's point of view.

When Tony left interrogation, he found Gibbs coming from the observation room. Tony raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“McGee found him making a lot of trips to Washington. Irregular, but often,” Gibbs told him.

“Job-related?”

Gibbs didn’t believe it. “As a translator?”

“A linguist on deep space telemetry,” DiNozzo mused. “I wonder what language the planets talk in.” He shook his head. There was something about Jackson that triggered his cop instincts, and it wasn’t just his job. “Let’s see what his friend Jack’s got to say.” He looked down at Jackson’s clear, blocky handwriting.

“Jack O’Neill. Sounds familiar.”

Gibbs agreed, but couldn’t place where he’d heard the name before either.

“If he worked with Jackson on the base in Colorado, we might have him in one of the databases. I’ll put McGee on it.”

Tony glanced back at the door.

“You know, Jackson seemed awfully cool for a civilian. Most people are nervous in interrogation no matter what they didn’t do.”

“I noticed,” Gibbs agreed. Dr. Jackson was more of a mystery than he appeared at first glance. And as it happened, it was NCIS’ job to unravel mysteries.

* * *

General Jack O’Neill occupied an office somewhere on the upper levels of the Pentagon and had a secretary who sounded like 25 years of bad smoking; or that childhood illness Tony couldn’t remember the name of at the moment; the one Vito Corleone had presumably had in the Godfather movie and which had caused the characteristic rasp that Marlon Brando had actually picked up from real-life mob boss Frank Costello.

Getting O’Neill on the line didn’t take as long as Tony had feared. Some of the upper brass seemed to have a thing for keeping callers on hold for at least five minutes, tendency rising as their rank and number of stars increased. Tony really wished he could see the man though.

“Dr. Jackson? Yes, he staid at my place last night.”

“How long did you stay up?”

A brief pause. “I couldn’t say, I didn’t look at the clock. We watched tv, shared a few beers and stories.”

Tony hummed. In his experience, most soldiers, particularly the experienced ones, had a pretty accurate internal clock.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” O’Neill confirmed.

“So you can’t say for certain where Mr. Jackson was between 12 pm and 2 am?”

Another pause; this one was longer. Tony really wished he’d gone to meet the man face to face.

“If he’d left the house, I would have woken up. Is Daniel a suspect?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

“No offense, Agent DiNozzo, but either you answer my question or I’ll get my answers another way. Doctor Jackson,” he stressed the title, “is one of my men. I oversee his program, and he’s also a friend. If he’s in trouble, I want to know. Now.”

DiNozzo ignored the commanding tone at the other end of the line. Gibbs had a worse bark.

“Do you think Dr. Jackson is capable of murder?”

“No,” O’Neill declared firmly. “Do I need to come to NCIS?”

* * *

He came in his dress blues and turned heads. Although the staff at NCIS were used to seeing a wide variety of military folks and their fruit salads, they still admired a decorated officer — until proved guilty. In General O’Neill’s case, Tony knew that about half the floor also appreciated him as a man who had aged well. The ribbons on his chest weren’t all familiar to Tony, and he liked to think that he’d learned a few things during his time at NCIS. He’d have to ask Gibbs later.

Strictly speaking, O’Neill shouldn’t have been able to get up here on this floor without a call to Tony first. That step had apparently been skipped, but at least he had an official escort. Bill from the security desk downstairs was with him, but O’Neill outpaced him once he caught sight of the waiting NCIS agent. O’Neill honed in on him so confidently that Tony knew that the man had known exactly who to look for. He’d seen a picture, perhaps even the files of the entire team.

“Special Agent DiNozzo?”

Tony nodded. They shook hands. “General O’Neill, thanks for coming.”

“Where’s Dr. Jackson?”

“He’s fine.”

The General shot him an annoyed look. “That’s great but not the answer to my question.”

“He’s waiting until someone confirms his alibi.”

“I thought I did that on the phone.”

“Let’s take this conversation to a conference room,” Gibbs interjected as he came out from behind his desk. “I’m Gibbs, Senior Special Agent in Charge of this team.” 

O’Neill gave Gibbs a quick once over. What his impression was, Tony couldn’t tell, because the man gave nothing away.

“Fine, let’s move this party then.”

 

O’Neill declined the offered coffee.

“Let’s get straight to business. I have other engagements today.”

“Fine with us. Dr. Jackson said he stayed at your house,” Tony said.

O’Neill stared at him coolly. “As I already confirmed on the phone.”

“He could have left the house while you were asleep,” Tony argued.

“No, he couldn’t have.”

“You’re so sure?” Gibbs insisted.

O’Neill only gave Gibbs another long look.

“You were in the Marines. You know that someone with as much experience as I have with covert ops would know exactly where the people in his house are.”

“Maybe. If they didn’t spend the last ten years at a desk directing scientists on space research.”

The General’s expression hardened.

“What’s Dr. Jackson’s role in your program anyhow?” Tony asked again.

“He’s our linguist. The details are classified. Nor, do I think, relevant for your case. Who died?”

“Lance Vaughn. Did you know him?”

O’Neill shook his head without so much as a frown. “His name doesn’t sound familiar.”

Tony and Gibbs exchanged a look.

“Now, how about you let Daniel go?” O’Neill sounded casual, but it was an order, and he was clearly a man used to being obeyed.

DiNozzo looked towards his boss. Like he’d expected, the senior agent gave him a small nod. They had no reason to keep Jackson, so they had to let him go. Tony flipped his notebook closed.

“I’ll take care of it.”

When O’Neill stood to follow him, Gibbs held him back. “Just a moment, General.”

O’Neill blinked at him and raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Dr. Jackson appears to be visiting D.C. rather regularly.” Gibbs remarked as the door closed behind Tony.

The General nodded. “True.”

“Are his trips work-related?”

“Sometimes. But as I said, our program is highly classified.”

There was something that was still bothering Gibbs. But he didn’t have any questions left, so he finally decided on one Tony had already asked Jackson.

“What were you watching?”

“Excuse me?”

Gibbs leaned forward. “You told Agent DiNozzo that you and Dr. Jackson watched TV.”

O’Neill nodded slowly. Gibbs waited.

“A few documentaries. Ancient Egypt.” The general shrugged. “Daniel… has a thing. I’m blaming his doctorates.”

Gibbs smiled as he stood up. “That’s not what Dr. Jackson said.”

* * *

O’Neill had swept out of NCIS promising hellfire. When Tony finally returned to his desk after taking care of Jackson, Gibbs had a paper file in front of him. It didn’t seem to make him any happier than the digital file McGee had dug up of Jackson earlier.

“I don’t think blackmail adds up,” Tony commented as he settled on his chair.

Across from him, Ziva shrugged. “Maybe O’Neill and Jackson are into something illegal together.”

“Maybe,” Tony agreed. “O’Neill is protecting Jackson. Why would he do that?”

“Depends on what he’s being blackmailed with, I suppose,” McGee put in.

Tony could tell that the younger agent was still fuming over his failed attempt at keeping O’Neill out of the interrogation room. Tony didn’t blame McGee too much; he figured O’Neill would have bulldozed through a platoon.

He didn’t agree with the junior agent’s comment though. “He seemed sincere about Jackson being innocent,” Tony said. “But they’re definitely hiding something. O’Neill slipped up because they didn’t have the opportunity to talk about their alibis. Maybe they weren’t together, or maybe they were but not watching tv. As suspicious as their lying makes Jackson, he doesn’t look like a killer to me.”

“Lots of people who kill don’t look like a killer,” Gibbs replied, but Tony already knew that Gibbs had his doubts on that point, too. He’d said as much earlier to Jackson.

“DiNozzo, Ziva, start with the victim again. McGee, have you been able to access Vaughn’s finances yet?”

McGee nodded. “They came in earlier, I haven’t a chance to take a look yet.”

“You’ll stay on Jackson and the General?” Tony asked.

Gibbs retrieved his phone. “I will.”

He was going to call in a few favors.

* * *

The program was so classified that all they had found was an abbreviation and a thin cover story that made no sense when considered together with Jackson. A space research project in Colorado, fine; a linguist and archaeologist working on it as a full-time employee? No way in hell.

O’Neill with his background in special operations didn’t fit either. The only way he should have ended up on a science program was if the man had seriously screwed up or gotten badly injured. There was no evidence of either. He’d spent four months in a prison in Iraq, but returned to special ops after.

His personal tragedy, his young son who’d shot himself with O’Neill’s service weapon, wouldn’t have had an impact on his career. Gibbs shuddered to think what the man had gone through after that and found it curious that O’Neill been put back on active duty shortly after his son’s death. It seemed to have been for a single project only, the same one Jackson had been involved in, and Gibbs wondered why the Air Force had opted for O’Neill of all people. A suicide mission perhaps?

Only two other men had come back with him, and O’Neill had opted for retirement afterward. But then, a year later, he’d been reactivated a second time. What was it that had made O’Neill and Jackson so special?

 

Jackson was almost more mysterious. There were holes in his life, quite literally. There was no trace of him after that first job with the Air Force, but he hadn’t been on their payroll after. He’d reappeared a year later when O’Neill was reactivated. A few months after that, he had disappeared and the Air Force had cleared out his apartment. The same thing happened again a few years after that. The second time he had been gone for an entire year. His bank account was the only thing left intact, and O’Neill’s name was on the papers for that one. Since Jackson didn’t appear to have any living relatives, that made sense.

Jackson reappeared, moved into a new apartment and paid his rent again. His expenses in general resembled more a soldier on missions abroad than a civilian with a nine-to-five job. Groceries didn’t show up for weeks. And there was practically no credit card activity.

 

Few of Gibbs contacts could tell him more. Some were surprised to find a classified subject they’d never even heard of. Whatever they did in Colorado, they spent a lot of money on it. ‘National security’ was a term he came across more than once.

Others warned him off.

“Don’t dig into this Jethro,” Matthew at the Pentagon warned him. “It’s way above your pay grade and can easily cost you your job. Why are you even asking this?”

“I’ve got an archaeologist in my interrogation room without an alibi for a murder and a general who lied for him.”

“Names, Jethro.”

“Dr. Daniel Jackson and General Jonathan O’Neill.”

“Let them go, Jethro. Whatever it is you’re thinking, you’re wrong. They’re the stars of their program. Without Jackson, it wouldn’t even exist.”

 

Gibbs tried a few more contacts. John Samson at the NSA; Dawnielle Garcia working intelligence for the Air Force; Steve Terrance, who Gibbs had served with, who gave him another name.

But the few who knew O’Neill or Jackson at all always gave the same testimony: clean as a whistle, good guys, exceptional even. And: don’t ask for more than that.

Nothing in either of their backgrounds jumped out at Gibbs. There was nothing that indicated blackmail: no hint of past accusations against O’Neill, no sex clubs; his ex-wife had remarried and appeared to be doing well. If there was anything Jackson could hold against O’Neill, it was buried somewhere in their classified program.

The only thing that kept Gibbs from dropping the matter was his gut. If O’Neill really was the great guy everyone kept insisting, why would he lie for Jackson? Why had Jackson lied in the first place?

He knew he had to talk to O’Neill again. Lean on him, try to make him talk.

But just as he was lifting the receiver off the phone to make the call, his cell phone rang. It was DiNozzo, who had gone with Ziva to talk to Vaughn’s classmates.

“We have a confession,” Tony said.

Gibbs grimaced. He would have to let Jackson go. He wasn’t going to forget the lie though.

* * *

They met at the mall at seven in the morning, two days after Jackson left town. O’Neill was dressed in fatigues and Gibbs wondered if there was a significance to it. It was a working day after all.

Gibbs had brought two cups of coffee, and the General looked surprised when he was offered one. But he accepted the coffee and sipped, giving no indication of whether he preferred his coffee with milk or sugar.

“What do I need to do for you to drop your suspicions against Dr. Jackson?” The man got straight to the point.

“Tell me why you gave him an alibi. Tell me why you lied.”

“And if I can’t give you the reason?”

“If you tell me that it’s classified, I’ll find that a bit hard to believe.”

“It’s not classified, it’s personal.”

“I’m afraid that’s not good enough, General.”

O’Neill snorted contemptuously. He might have quelled quite a few critics in his career, but Gibbs had withstood more than a few attempts at stopping him.

“General, I’m not doing this for kicks,” Gibbs offered. “You lied to give a suspect an alibi. I saw your file, what I could of it anyhow. I don’t know what you did in Colorado, but to get the awards you did, it wasn’t a desk job. They don’t hand out Purple Hearts for a paper cut. And I talked to an old buddy of yours: Martin Hollis.”

It didn’t take long for O’Neill to recognize the name.

“Iraq.”

Gibbs nodded. “He says you’re a stand-up guy and he’d still jump into the fire for you. So if you’re one of the good guys on the force, why did you lie?” Gibbs paused, but O’Neill didn’t say anything. “At NCIS we work to protect the good guys in the Navy and find the bad guys. Flyboys are outside of my jurisdiction but I can still notify OSI if I think it necessary. So far I’ve got a few theories. Jackson blackmailed you, or you’re involved in something illegal together, or you thought you were doing a friend a favor. I’m not convinced by any of those theories.”

“So you think that I’m a good guy, but you wouldn’t take my word for it.”

Gibbs shook his head.

“Sorry, General. Fool me once…”

O’Neill guzzled down what looked like half of the still too hot coffee. He looked over to where the Vietnam memorial was in the distance. He’d enlisted during that war, Gibbs knew.

“Daniel’s going to kill me.”

“He wasn’t with you, was he?” Gibbs took the opportunity of the loose brick he could feel in O’Neill’s wall.

“Yes, he was,” O’Neill replied contrary to what Gibbs had still been expecting. “And if he’d left the bed, I would definitely have known.”

O’Neill watched him, waiting for the penny to drop.

It did, eventually, and Gibbs wanted to head-slap himself.

“There goes my career,” O’Neill said bitterly once he saw the look of realization and turned to the memorial again.

Of course. Jackson’s regular trips to D.C. He hadn’t looked at O’Neill’s trips to Colorado, and he’d bet that at least most of them were official, with a few ‘surprise inspections’ thrown in for good measure. Perhaps Gibbs would have figured it out if he’d seen that O’Neill didn’t stay at a hotel in Colorado, just like Jackson never stayed at one in D.C.

“You’re not the first, you know.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” O’Neill snarked. “The hundreds of other guys discharged with ‘homosexual conduct’ on their papers, dishonorably, if they’re unlucky. I‘ll make sure someone mentions that at my firing party.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Gibbs replied. “I meant you and Jackson aren’t the first who wouldn’t give me their alibi because of who they were with. I never put that on any record,” Gibbs replied firmly. “I’m not going to start now.”

“You gonna tell me to keep it in my pants instead until I retire?”

“I don’t think you or Jackson spend hundreds of dollars on cross-country trips for a simple booty call.”

“I never used tax dollars to see Daniel!” O’Neill glared at him.

“I didn’t say you did or would,” Gibbs lifted a placating hand. “You’re not the type. I have no idea what it is you do for the Air Force that’s so important they reactivated you twice. But obviously quite a few people consider it to be vital. Times are changing.” At O’Neill’s still mostly impassive expression that didn’t entire hide his anger, he added: “I don’t think the policy will be around forever after all. No one is going to hear anything from me about you and Dr. Jackson.”

“And your team?”

“They trust me. If I tell them the matter is closed, they won’t ask.”

O’Neill’s lips twisted into a parody of a smile at his choice of words.

“So we’re done?”

Gibbs nodded. “We’re done, General.”

O’Neill gave Gibbs another assessing look. It was hard to tell whether he trusted Gibbs or not. Perhaps he was already preparing a plan B just in case.

“Don’t forget to shred what you found on the program,” he only said. “I’d hate to have to come and see you again. I’m sure you understand: it’s entirely personal.”

Gibbs nodded. He hadn’t been wrong. The job came first for O’Neill, but he had no qualms holding a grudge either.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Setting: between 2005 and 2011 when DADT was repealed. I was thinking of 2007 or 2008, when there was some first movement to repeal DADT, as mentioned in this story.
> 
> 2) Inspiration: I wanted an NCIS/SG-1 crossover, and I abruptly remembered an early NCIS episode (or think I remember one anyhow), in which a suspect doesn’t want to reveal who he was with because of DADT. I honestly don’t remember which episode, all I remember is a depressed man in white dress uniform in an interrogation room with Gibbs. Needless to say, he eventually caved and I think Gibbs left his “affair” off the record. If you know which episode that was, I’d appreciate a note. -- Reader Marianne solved the mystery: the episode is Lt. Jane Doe.
> 
> 3) Useless trivia: “One thousand one … three” is from the ‘three second rule’ of defensive driving to ensure a safe distance to the car in front of you.


End file.
